I wouldn't call myself cocky. Confident at this point would be stretching it. Something about losing your parents, being romantically pursued by a guy for months, being so, so convinced of our epic love, finding out you're a supernatural creature-thing whose only use is being killed and used for blood- Something about all above said events makes a person question their self-worth.

My only hope of having a family and falling in love would be with a human who doesn't believe vampires (gag) exist, and someone who's certainly has never heard the word 'doppelganger' before, or knows what it means.

Oh, and getting dumped stung, more than I thought it would. The two breakups were so bad, too. Epic proportions.

After sending Jeremy away from all the mayhem, and after Aunt Jenna left to continue her college degree after being freaked out about the concept of vampires and hunters, I had the Gilbert house that was all too big for myself.

I haven't charged or looked at my phone for nearly three days now. I knew what I'd see. Hundreds of calls and texts and voicemails from the Salvatores, the rest of my friends, none from Jeremy, who's been a sulky teenager for weeks now. Or worse; I would unlock the phone with the same password I've had all my life and find no notifications except from game apps.

See? This is why I don't open my phone.

On a bright, sunny, looks-just-like-the-rest-of-the-week day, I dragged myself out of bed, re-did the bun barely containing my hair, and went downstairs to make myself some breakfast. I was mentally going over what I could have in my pantry and fridge and if I was willing to go grocery shopping yet or not and how much money I had left to do so.

And all thought-process in my doppelganger-brain halted when the thousand years old Original vampire turned around from where he'd been looking at my family pictures. He picked up his hand from his pocket and inspected me head to toe with a tilted head.

"Hello, Elena." Elijah's smooth, cultured voice was surprisingly pleasant to my murky mood.

I bit my lips on a genuine smile. "Elijah," I greeted. I hesitated before stepping closer to him. He was standing in the way to the kitchen anyway. "What are you doing here?"

"You haven't been answering your phone for days now," Elijah said, gaze intensely invading my mind. God, why did Elijah's looks have to be so intense? It was like he could read my thoughts and judge them at the same time. He straightened, briefly abandoning holding my eyes hostage to glance at one of the pictures, as if it's gotten stuck in his head. "I came to check on you."

Realization dawned on me, and I snorted. "Sure." I walked past him. He followed.

"The only reason Niklaus is not here himself is because he's not invited in," Elijah said. I turned my back to him as I started taking ingredients out of the fridge. Eggs, toast, a bottle of store-made lemonade- cinnamon and nutmeg from the spices drawer.

"Elena." Elijah sighed. "You know I think of you fondly, but there's only so much I can do."

I shot him a look as I got a skillet to fry my French toast in. "I don't get your point." Yes, I was being dense on purpose.

Elijah arched an elegant eyebrow, like he knew what I was doing, and indulged me. "If it was up to my brother, you'd be locked down. Probably would've taken you out of town and away from your family and friends. But you're not. You're here, in your home, with bi-weekly blood donations, and free to live as you please."

The temptation to be snarky, to release some of the frustration that's been building up, was hard to bite on. But Elijah was right. My situation wasn't ideal, but it could've been a lot worse. By now, I'd learned how to deal with these ancient vampires enough to know when and how to respond.

"I know," I said simply, genuinely. "Thank you for that."

He nodded, satisfied. "Why haven't you been answering your phone? Are you all right?"

I was quick to reassure him with a very convincing jerk of my head. Food, I reminded myself, and went to search for a bowl to mix the eggs in. Nearly all the dishes were in the sink and various counters. Seriously? I don't even remember using a mixing bowl these past few days.

Movement behind me registered, but I didn't care until I noticed from the corner of my eyes Elijah's suit jacket on the back of one of the stools. Holy- biceps. Elijah was rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt up. My mouth hung upon when he made his way to my overflooding sink. With the mannerisms of a well-mannered aristocrat , he gracefully started to organize the dirty plates, setting them aside until he found a bowl.

"Will this do?" he asked, holding it up. I nodded numbly. He then proceeded to wash it.

Elijah Mikaelson. In my kitchen. Thousand years old Original vampire. Washing my dishes. God, am I hallucinating?

"I noticed," Elijah said, moving on to a plate, "the lack of Salvatores in your home."

I pursed my lips. "Me, too." I snapped out of my useless trance and resumed being a functional person again. I decided to be helpful, too. "You don't have to do that," I said, going to him.

"It's quite all right," he said. "Would you mock me if I told you I find it soothing?" He then smiled at me, a half smile that was so handsome it made my stomach dip in excitement.

"Y-yeah," I managed to get out, a breathy laugh leaving me. "I actually will. I've never met anyone who likes doing dishes. Such a freak," I drawled teasingly.

He huffed a breath, though his lips quirked in an amused smile. "Go make your toast."

Maybe I've been deprived of male company for too long, of human contact in general- non-toxic one, but flirting with Elijah felt good- and oh God, I'm in one of Jeremy's shirts and old booty shorts from seven years ago that still somehow fit, and my hair is in the mother of messy buns, like, not even one of those cute ones. And he's in a suit.

"Do you want some?" I offered, the polite thing to do since the man was washing my dishes.

"No, thank you," he answered, so cultured and elegant. "I've already had breakfast."

Okay, then. "Coffee then?"

He pondered it. "All right. Thank you, Elena."

Thankfully, the coffee maker was good to go. I made enough for more than two people. By the time it was brewing, Elijah had washed enough for me to be able to make and plate my toast and mugs for us to drink in.

As my toast and sugar caramelized in butter, Elijah sipped on his plain black coffee. "Elena," he said, "Are you alone in this house?"

I looked up and around. I was sure vampires could hear and smell if someone else was in the house as them. "Yes…"

"Not right now," he said. "In general. Are you living on your own?"

Oh. "Oh," I said. "Yes. Um, so Jeremy's still away, and Jenna's at college."

"And your friends?" he said inquisitively.

"To each their own." I shrugged. "It's summer, you know."

The toast was done. I slid the two slices onto the plate Elijah so generously washed and placed it on the counter. I was going to eat standing up because sitting down next to Elijah, having breakfast, was too surreal for me.

After that, breakfast was silent. Elijah drank his coffee and I procrastinated eating and drinking my lemonade and coffee because I didn't really feel like being stabbed with a needle any time today. Elijah's look was all-too-knowing, but he was kind enough not to point it out.

Once I was finished, I dragged my tired soul to get dressed. Elijah waited downstairs. He was back at the family picture frames when I came down twenty minutes later in mom-jeans and plain white t-shirt tucked in, wet hair pulled back into a long braid down my back from my quick shower.

Elijah had his car, a slick, black, expensive-looking car that looked like it was wasted on this small town. He drove us to the Mikaelson Manner, where a happy Klaus was waiting by the door.

"About bloody time," he snapped at us the second Elijah opened the door for me.

"You are welcome, Niklaus," Elijah said, unaffected and unamused. "Elena, if I could show you to the-"

"You-" Klaus stepped closer to me, stance and tone accusing and aggressive. "Where have you been? Why haven't you been answering your phone?"

I scrunched my nose at him. Truth be told, I'd never learned how to talk to Klaus. Stefan and Damon handled the threats. I could maybe, on a good day, throw in a quip somewhere in the conversation, but Klaus was just so… otherworldly. The most powerful creature in the world, in front of me, threatening me, hating me, able to snap my neck and kill all my loved ones and not blink while doing it.

Elijah spoke instead of me. "We'll speak later, Niklaus. She doesn't have her phone. Should we go on with continuing this unpleasant conversation or get this over with?" He leveled Klaus' scorching glare with one that not only equated it, but surpassed it. Big brother superpower, I guess.

"I can only be so tolerant for so long," Klaus told me, not at all threateningly. My breath didn't even hitch (Lie). "I continue to allow you your mortal pleasures, but I will not hesitate to bend you to my will if you test me enough."

Klaus' accent, the words pleasure and bend you to my will, struck a chord in me, and not just a fearful one.

A week later, I showed up unprompted- as in after ten texts varying in the level of threats from Klaus- for my weekly blood donation. I'm in sweatpants, a tank top, and crocs. A light grey cardigan hangs over my arms. Sometimes I get cold after getting blood taken away. And hungry. Elijah had taken to stocking on juices and candies to hand me after each session.

Klaus opens their front door, charged eyes inspecting me. He lingers on my face. His expression tightens as if in displeasure. Well, fuck you, too, buddy. Wordlessly, he steps back into the manor and shoves the door wider in invitation.

How could I be so welcomed, yet unwelcomed? He was the one who refused to let me draw my own blood in peace at home, insisting on witnessing it with his own eyes, probably in fear I'll replace it with someone else's blood and have a precious werewolf die.

I follow with a heaviness wearing my soul down. Klaus abruptly halts, causing me to stumble. I don't even get a chance to balance myself before his hand shoots up to my chin and jerks my face to him.

I startled. "What the-"

His glacier blue eyes, usually empty, are not. "What's wrong with you?"

The way he's gripping me takes me back to that night, to when he held me so tenderly despite having every intention of draining my life out of my veins.

"I'm being forced to give away my blood weekly for a maniacal hybrid. What's wrong with you?" I tear myself away from him. The movement's too quick, and my head suddenly feels unbearably light. Woah, dizzy.

Klaus steadies me again, this time with both hands holding on to my shoulders. He scowls fiercely.

"What's the matter?" he demands. "You look dead on your feet." Then he does the weirdest thing: he leans in and sniffs my neck. "When's the last time you've eaten?"

"You can smell that?" Disbelief marrs my tone. I mean, what else could he smell?

"Malnourishment has a distinct scent," he says. Clicking his tongue in disappointment, he steps away. "You sleep too much, too. I can tell."

He walks away, leaving me with an offended and dumbfounded look on my face.

"Come on!" he bellows, his voice sounding louder than it really is because of how big the living area is, with the ceiling spanning two floors. He walks in a different direction than our usual one. Normally, I'll sit on the living room sofa or chair, play on my phone or if I'm graced with Elijah's presence, we'll talk and he'll tell me a crazy story about his encounters with the Qing dynasty or something.

No, today, Klaus ushers me to his gigantic, chef-style kitchen. "Eat," he commands, gesturing wildly and at nothing in particular.

Eat...what? Do vampires even stock up on groceries? Damon Salvatore's diet consisted of blood bags and alcohol.

"Look, can we just get this over with?" I sigh. "I want to go home."

"I won't draw blood from you when we already look you're going to pass out," Klaus says authoritatively. The severity of his expression lessens then. "I won't have an unconscious doppelganger in my home. It's bad luck."

I want to splutter, a laugh of disbelief bubbling up. "Fuck you," I snap, though my voice is breathy. I really am tired.

Hi everyone! I honestly don't know how or even when this story started taking bubble conversations in my head, but I've had the most fun imaginingit and putting it into words. I was listening to Thrift Shop by Macklemore, Motivate by Little Mix, and Hunger by Florence and the Machine while writing it. Honestly doesn't have anything to do with the story, but they're really cool songs.

Anyway, this was supposed to be a nice, cool, drama-free one shot, but it's over 40 pages long and sitting in my files so I decided to publish it and hope someone will enjoy it.

Just to clarify something, and this is very important. In this fic, Klaus does not kill Jenna in the sacrifice. It was a nameless vampire, and not of any importance to the story. I didn't feel right to have the plot progress between Elena and the Mikaelsons with that hanging in the air.

Hope you'll enjoy it and thanks for reading!